Fandom: Celebrity RPS
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean
Challenge: AU Orlibean. Sean is hired to kidnap Orlando who he assumes is a spoiled rich kid who turns out to be anything but, when the ransom isn't paid the order comes down for Sean to kill him. It's a race against time to get them both to safety. Written for amygirl's request at the_challenger.
Summary: Sean's little brother has a taste for the ponies but no talent when it comes to choosing winners, and owes a local gangster a lot more money than he can come up with. Sean agrees to do an "easy job" in payment of the debt -- kidnapping a spoiled young punk named Bloom and hanging on to him while the gangster gets a ransom from the lad's family. It should've been a simple job, but then things started to get complicated.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. I know nothing about their social lives or sexual activities, more's the pity. This is fiction, period. It is done as a labor of love and I make no money from it.
Notes: Happy Birthday, Amy! :D
Sean had found himself in a few dodgy situations before, there was no denying it. He'd done a few things that wouldn't stand much scrutiny and even a few things he didn't care to remember himself. A man had to get by and take care of his family and his mates and sometimes he just had to do something and then get on with his business.
This'd seemed like an easy job, though, and a way out of a rough spot. When Jack Merriwether had suggested it -- although mayhap "suggested" wasn't quite the right word, but still -- Sean'd been relieved, actually. Merriwether could be a right bastard and it could've been a lot worse, yeah?
And it was really Tommy's fault at the heart of it. If he'd been able to stay away from the races then none of them would've been in this mess at all. But the thrill of it all'd had a hold of him from the time they were both just lads and their Aunt Tabby'd taken them to the track and placed shilling bets for them. For Sean it'd just been a bit of fun but for Tommy it'd been an intense obsession that'd never left him.
When Tommy'd gotten into it with Merriwether, he hadn't told Sean, or anyone else in the family. Sean and his baby brother had always been close but there had to've been some amount of shame there, 'cause otherwise there'd've been no reason to hide it, yeah? So the first thing Sean'd known of it was when four of Merriwether's boys had come to the shop, gone straight for Tommy and started messing him about.
Sean's target made it easy. He'd originally thought he might have to grab the kid on his way home from somewhere, which could get messy, especially if his folks were expecting him. Then he'd found out the boy was a club rat and liked the lads, so Sean -- who fancied a fine arse himself every now and again -- had thought about chatting him up and getting him to come with all calm like, which had the benefit of a willing target but still had the problem with the kid being able to describe him after. Sean'd just as soon not end up in prison when this was done.
Then he'd noticed that the lad ended up in the alley behind the club nearly every night, with one man or another. And he chose some real bastards, too, 'cause save one or two, every one of them fucked him over a rubbish bin or fucked his face or whatever it took to get them off, then walked away and left the lad. He'd stand there for a minute, or kneel or however he was, then pull himself together and head for his car to go home.
That minute, when he was alone and obviously had his mind on other things besides his immediate surroundings, Sean decided that was when he'd take him.
Tommy had to've been in a bad way -- Sean knew it at the time. For them to come into the welding shop where Tommy had family and mates had taken some bollocks, right enough, and despite Tommy's denials later, Sean'd been sure that hadn't been the first time they'd worked him over. While two blokes with pistols had held everyone else back, the other two had explained to Tommy just what was going to happen to him if he couldn't come up with at least the interest owed on the money he'd borrowed. Tommy'd babbled something about finding the money, then clutched his chest and collapsed.
Sean had charged forward, ignoring the boys with the guns so it was just as well they'd also been ignoring him just then, and gone on his knees next to his fallen brother. He'd felt his neck like they always did on the telly and there was a pulse, so he'd called to their dad to phone for an ambulance. The four bully-boys had just looked at each other and left.
They were still around, though, and there were more where they came from, which was how Sean had ended up leaning against the dirty brick wall in the alley behind the kid's favorite club, lurking in the shadows and waiting for a chance. The agreement had been that if Sean'd do this one job for him (since Tommy was barely out of hospital and in no shape to be doing much of anything just yet) Merriwether would hand over Tommy's notes and they'd all be square.
One easy job and they'd be shut of Merriwether and his goons. And once it was over and done, Sean'd pound on Tommy himself if he ever did anything so daft again.
So the kid and his latest were going at it in a niche across the alley. Sean had watched them come out the back door of the club and pass through a pool of light on their way to the shadowed gap. Tonight's choice was a big bloke with his hair buzzed short and wearing matching studded black leather jacket and trousers that looked brand new, along with his shiny black boots and glittering chrome chains.
Sean rolled his eyes and suppressed a snort. Some pretentious twat, that was, buying an image all off the same rack at a pricey shop. No wonder he'd ended up with young Master Bloom -- anyone with a hint of taste would laugh in his face. Sean hadn't seen any signs that young Bloom had any taste, though, nor even any particular type he went for. Anything male and willing to use him was good enough from what Sean could tell.
He sighed and looked at his watch, careful not to make any sound but impatient for them to finish.
The end came soon enough and Mr. Leather Boutique grunted his way through his climax, then pulled out and punched Bloom in the back of his head. Sean heard a cry of pain and the crack of a skull on brick, then the leather twat sauntered away while doing up his trousers. Bloom collapsed to the pavement, his arms up over his head.
Sean winced and sent a dire thought or two after the twat, but he had business to take care of. Besides, Bloom had brought it on himself for being such a damn fool. And him having had his brains rattled would make it easier on Sean.
He waited until the leather twat was out of sight, then strode across the alley and hooked his hands under Bloom's arms. He lifted him up gently but his voice was harsh when he whispered, "Come along with me, now, and no fussing or I'll finish what yer boyfriend started." Keeping behind him, he marched the staggering kid out of the alley onto a darkened street and around the corner to where Sean had left his car. He could smell alcohol even from behind him; between that and a pair of knocks on the head, he doubted the young man had any idea of where he was or what was happening, which was all right with Sean.
When they got there, he pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and secured the kid's wrists behind him, then blindfolded him with a woolen scarf. He'd originally planned on putting Bloom up front where he could keep an eye on him but he changed his mind; the kid was in no shape to be causing any trouble and it'd be better if no one saw him anyway.
"You lie down and rest your head," he whispered, helping him into the back seat. "We've a drive ahead of us. Don't give me no trouble and it'll all be over in a couple days."
Bloom just moaned but he lay down like Sean said, curling up as well as he could with the handcuffs on. Good enough.
Merriwether'd given Sean directions to a cottage a ways out of town and the key to the door. Sean was to call him when he got there with the kid and then let Merriwether do the negotiating with the lad's family. That was fine with Sean; the less he had to do with this job the better he liked it. The snatch had gone as smoothly as he'd ever hoped; with any luck the family would pay up quick and it'd all be over soon.
Orlando groaned again and tried to brace himself against the back of the seat. It was tough with his hands cuffed behind his back but they'd turned onto a road that felt like it was all ruts and potholes and his head felt like it was about to burst. He almost wished it would, just to be done with it.
He'd been trying to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. He'd had a few shots and then Bert had fucked him a good one out back but then something had slammed his head against the wall and everything'd gone blurry and loud and painful.
And just to cap it all off, he felt like he was going to vomit.
The cuffs bit into his wrists when he tried to shift and the car lurched over another rut in the road. At least the scarf wrapped around his head helped cushion it a little but he was still feeling like shite warmed over. He didn't mind some kink and Bert had seemed like the sort to go in for it but right now wasn't really a great time. His voice didn't seem to be connected very well, though, and when he'd tried to tell Bert that maybe they could wait for another night, all that'd come out was some random groans. He wondered where they were going but couldn't manage to ask. He wasn't even sure how long they'd been driving.
He thought maybe he'd fallen asleep a few times; his memories of the evening were disconnected, with some weird shit in between. He couldn't really tell, but eventually the car stopped and then the door his feet were pressing against opened and Bert helped him out. Bert's hands were big and solid and strong and tried to help him stand up. That wasn't working, though, and finally he just scooped Orlando up in his arms and carried him.
That was nice. Orlando snuggled against his chest with his face tucked in the crook of Bert's neck. Bert muttered something that sounded annoyed but didn't drop him or anything so that was okay.
He was set down for a moment, swaying on his feet and only upright because of the arm clamped around him, and he heard some rattling and a low curse, then a door creaked open and he was carried inside. A light stabbed through his closed eyelids and his head throbbed. Orlando moaned and tried to curl up tighter, hiding against Bert's chest. They walked for a minute and then Bert set him down on a bed -- which didn't move, not even a little bit -- in a dark room and covered him with a blanket.
Orlando was almost asleep when an arm pushed under his shoulders and lifted him up. Bert whispered, "Come on, now, drink this," and held a glass to his lips. Orlando took a sip. It was water, cool and plain. He drank a couple more sips, then the glass moved away. He murmured a protest and blunt fingers pushed a pair of pills into his mouth.
"Come on, lad, it's aspirin. Swallow." Bert held the water glass up again.
The pills were huge and he had a hard time swallowing them. They dissolved into a gritty, bitter powder before making it all the way down and he eagerly finished the rest of the glass of water, and a second when it was offered.
"There you go," Bert said in a low, whispering voice. "Have a sleep, now, and you'll feel more yourself in the morning."
The last thing Orlando remembered was the feel of a damp cloth dabbing at his aching forehead.
Next Chapter: Chapter Two